Nicknames
by ezzelin
Summary: Gokudera is trying to cope with the sudden abundance of idiot in his appartment, and being called various meaningful nicknames does not help him keping his cool. 8059 fluff.


Written per request [8059 fluff]. For **whippedcaramel**, I hope I've lived up to your expectations. :)

Beta'ed by **BadAyka**.

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><p><em><strong>Nicknames<strong>_

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><p>The gentle yet persistent chirping of the birds slowly penetrated his slumber and nudged his conscience into awareness. His sapphire eyes fluttered open only to shut close immediately, momentarily blinded by the sombre resplendence of the morning light protruding into his room past all the defences in forms of windows and curtains. A pair of rough fingers – thin, long fingers of a pianist that were now cut and burned in many places – massaged his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose, washing away the remaining stupor of the dream swept away by the rising sun. Muttering in Italian under his breath – a simple morning greeting to himself, an act of someone that obviously spent too much time alone – the silver-haired teen slid from under the sheets and got up reluctantly, striding towards the kitchen in slow steps, brushing against the floor while he walked, producing a series of somewhat rhythmic <em>swish-swoosh<em>es.

The door of the fridge swung open with ease, and a can of orange juice was withdrawn before darkness consumed the inside as the door shut close again – only to be opened immediately after, this time a silver-mane head peering inside, inspecting the contents of the fridge closely instead of just a hand instinctively reaching in for what it needed.

The emerald orbs narrowed as they scrutinised two glass bottles full of white liquid; never before had there been a drop of this offensive liquid in this fridge, or for that matter, anywhere in the entire apartment.

'_What the hell is milk doing in my fridge?'_

His nose cringed in disgust as he turned around to reach a glass to pour his juice into; only to find an unwashed mug with rather smelly remains of milk inside.

He retreated backwards until his back hit the kitchen counter. The expression etched on his face betrayed confusion, puzzlement and something that already bordered to haunted fear. Was all this loneliness he experienced daily, closed off in his apartment improving his equipment and honing his techniques, taking its toll? They do say the border between ingenuity and insanity is thin, yet he had not expect this to happen to him... was he already in so deep that he'd drink something as disgusting as milk and then forget all about it?

The lithe teen stumbled drunkenly into his living room, and collapsed onto the couch. He needed to calm down, focus, and get his mind in order – and most of all, explain to himself what had been happening... there must be a reasonable explanation for all this – and no, he won't accept he's going insane! – either that or he's facing desperate attempts of an UMA trying to communicate with him...

He lifted his gaze from the ground, and suddenly, he found the source of all the disturbances in his daily life that made him suspect he was losing his sanity.

There, right there on _his _sofa, hugging _his_ pillow, snuggling cosily in _his _blanket – was the biggest idiot of all times. No, actually, the ex-biggest idiot of all times, since obviously Gokudera himself had just claimed the title by letting this jerk stay here and spread about his apartment.

He snorted loudly, and sipped his orange juice, letting the invigorating taste develop in his mouth a bit before swallowing; the sheer amount of vitamin C he was getting should help him clear his thoughts and aid him in preparing what to say to the sleeping idiot while he'll nonchalantly kick him out of his apartment along with his stinking milk.

The teen sighed in disdain, and closed his eyes in resignation.

He was used to blood, violence and gore, but was never trained for _this _kind of situation.

He wasn't even sure exactly how things turned out this way since most of his memories from the previous night were somewhat hazy – the things he _did_ remember, however, did nothing to comfort him, rather the opposite.

"Oh, you're awake, Dera? Goooood morning~"

His eyes bolted open as the voice nudged him from his thoughts; and he found himself staring at a widely-beaming baseball freak threatening to permanently damage his eyes with the sheer magnitude of the grin he was flashing.

"Wash your teeth before you go around showing them like this, imbecile. It's not hygienic. And don't you fucking call me Dera."

The raven, currently universes away from the ruthless swordsman he had proved to be in dire situations, chuckled merrily, shrugging away the insult like pollen swept by the wind, landing on his shoulder. Long ago, he had gone past the phase where he could be hurt by the fierce Italian's words, and his brain now automatically filtered out all profanities those supple pink lips uttered.

"Fine, fine, I won't. And I'll go wash my teeth so you won't have any complaints," he responded while standing up and stretching his muscles, slightly sore from spending the night cooped up on the sofa – as comfortable and well-cushioned as it was, it couldn't even dream to compare to a proper bed.

Gokudera watched him in disbelief as he paced across _his_ apartment as if it was his own; moreover, it seemed he knew his way around pretty damn well, confidently striding towards the bathroom with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Do you have any spare toothbrushes or am I supposed to use yours? Heh, I guess it's not really a big deal, it's only an indirect kiss while we-"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING? WE DIDN'T DO A THING!"

The now slightly confused raven-haired teen wobbled his way back to the living room, scratching the back of his head while trying to soothe down the situation while at the same time not allow Gokudera to escape reality once again – which was a fairly demanding deed, to be frank.

"I SAID WE DIDN'T DO A THING AND THAT MEANS WE DIDN'T DO A THING AND THAT'S THE END OF THE GODDAMN STORY! NOW DON'T GO AROUND OTHER PEOPLE'S BATHROOMS USING THEIR TOOTHBRUSHES-"

"But I wasn't going around _other_ people's bathrooms," the baseball ace argued back, pouting ever so slightly as he realised coaxing the fierce silverette into admitting yesterday's events would be quite a feat to achieve. "I was only going into _your_ bathroom, and asked if I could use _your_ toothbrush, Gyungyundera."

The bomber seemed to calm down a bit, likely due to the fact that he was still trying to figure out what to do with the piece of information he had just been presented with. "That... is beside the point. The point is that you're walking around my apartment in underwear, making yourself at home and wanting to use _my toothbrush_..." He massaged his temples tiredly; this was certainly not his morning. "And, what have I said about stupid nicknames? Where did that come from, anyway?"

Yamamoto grinned like an idiot, ignored half of what he'd just said, and explained merrily.

"It's because Gokudera makes that kind of sounds when he's really angry... his face turns red and then he goes _gyun gyun _and _poh poh_ like an old steam train-"

"I DO NOT!"

He cut him off, turned crimson red and started yelling profanities at Yamamoto while producing an array of indescribable sounds along the way – that is, until he suddenly stopped, realising he was doing _precisely_ what the idiot just described, and inwardly facepalmed for letting himself be provoked by such an ignorant existence as Yamamoto.

He let it go; he knew there was no way he'd win this argument, having ever so elegantly defeated himself just now. However, he'll have to be more careful around him in the future; it seems he let his guard down too much, and is now being easily seen through – and that was certainly not a comforting fact.

"What's with you and stupid nicknames, anyway? Your father called me Gokuaku (1) last time... Does it run in the family or what?"

The swordsman answered with a confident grin smeared across his face – an expression Gokudera did not like, for it was the expression of someone who knew something he didn't. "Maybe... but we only give nicknames to the ones we care about."

He had to fight the faintest shade of pink that dusted his cheeks the instant he heard those words and the embarrassing fact they implied. He had to scold himself mentally for getting so easily flushed; he shouldn't be reacting this much, especially not in this kind of a situation – the gentle blush suggested the exact opposite of the message he was trying to convey here.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever... here's a toothbrush, now go wash your teeth already."

He shrugged off the words, pretending not to have noticed the unspoken implication, and shoved a spare toothbrush he dug up in the meantime into the raven's hands violently. He did not intend to deal with him any longer than absolutely necessary – even this much was too much.

The baseball ace took the toothbrush, glancing over at Gokudera before turning on his heels to leave towards the bathroom, replying politely as he did so: "Thank you ...Goukadera (2)."

It certainly did not help that this was the third nickname so far, and that the ones before were embarrassing enough already to make the bomber want to shove dynamite up someone's ass; no, nothing could have mentally prepared him to be called _gorgeous_ in that seducing husky tone he didn't remember hearing from Yamamoto ever before.

To say that he blushed would be an understatement; a more accurate description would be that his face turned a shade that could rival any famed crimson rose as the heat permeating his brain threatened to reach evaporation point. He turned away, trying to hide his face, and cover up as if nothing had happened; pretending he heard nothing was proving increasingly difficult, however.

"Wha-wha-what are you doing calling me another stupid name? Idiot."

He could hear the other teen shifting and approaching him, but didn't look back – he didn't dare to, lest he might lose the last pieces of his sanity that still preserved somehow.

A simple reply came in a soft, slightly husky voice;

"But it's true, Gokudera is just gorgeous, there's no other way to describe it."

He'd never heard Yamamoto speak like that before; for the most part, he was just a big loud idiot – and even though the time he'd listen to him spitting unnecessary things and half-whispering nonsense frighteningly increased as of lately, _this _was different. _He was serious._

But – he won't fall for such cheap tricks. He needed to calm down, ignore the throbbing in his chest, echoing deafeningly in his ears, and fight back the blush still staining his cheeks. He would turn around now, and explain to him calmly and seriously that he wasn't _going there._

He was not ready to form a relationship with another person.

And, most of all, he was not ready to get attached and then thrown away again; and it was inevitable it would turn out so, no matter what he said. It would still wind up the same way, because people were like that; it was in their nature.

"Look, I don't know exactly what I said and did yesterday, but I was obviously not myself, so you should just forget all about-"

He didn't get a chance to fully explain since he had been rather effectively silenced by a pair of lips pressing against his own, coaxing him into a kiss gently while a pair of lanky arms wrapped around his torso. He pushed back, his palms against the sculpted chest – he knew his resolve might crumble and succumb to the comfort if he doesn't do something about it quickly.

"Stop it. I don't want this."

His voice was cold, cleaving the silence like a machete – yet oddly forced and strained. He didn't look up to see Yamamoto's expression; he didn't want to see it, and he knew well enough how he'd look like just from the tone of his voice when he argued back.

"B-but Gokudera... I like you! And yesterday-"

"I told you, I wasn't myself yesterday. Now stop it, and let me go. I don't want this."

_He doesn't want it, he doesn't need it...!_ All there was to it was feeling comfortable, a sense of human warmth promising a safe haven and stability; all those things that are so easily crushed, thrashed and shattered into pieces.

"I don't want your care, your affection, your feelings. This ... this is just _troublesome_."

There, he said it. He recognised the raven's feelings, admitted them, and rejected him; that should do the trick, right? That should make him back off and leave him alone... being alone was, after all, the only foolproof way to prevent yourself from getting hurt.

However, the baseball ace did not move; he did not release him from his secure embrace, neither did he say anything. What was going on?

Fed up with silence and stillness, he finally looked up – only to find a pair of hazel eyes fixated on him, and a face bearing such a stern expression it frightened him. Only a few times until now had he seen the swordsman like that; and those rare occasions were when his natural instinct took control, making him stop playing around and whack the living hell out of his opponent.

Finally, the raven spoke; his speech was slow and deliberate, taking time to form each word clearly, emphasizing the determination flaring up in those warm hazel orbs.

"I won't allow you to forget yesterday, and pretend like nothing ever happened."

The statement was simple, yet meaningful: the way he said it left no space for objection or doubt.

"And I'll do _this_ as many times I have to if it'll make you remember."

The raven leaned closer and captured his lips once again; and while Gokudera gasped, struggled against his grip, and fought against the appendage protruding into his cavern, he felt his attempts to free himself were feeble and weak – his half-heartedness betrayed the hidden desires he was trying to deny for the greater good, for the well-being of both of them.

"I... I won't let you go. Not like this. Not when I can see you're lying to yourself."

He listened him speak with such fondness and care, and thought it was unreal;

he watched him smile softly, maybe a tad bitterly even, and thought that maybe he was different;

he sensed him brush stray strands of silver hair from his face gently, and thought his touch was so careful as if he was a porcelain doll he'd been afraid not to break.

"Gyunyudera ." (3)

He heard him call him another nickname, and blushed, grimaced, stuttered, skipped a heartbeat and shouted, not necessarily in this order.

"Wha-what are you calling me again, you idiot?"

He was silenced with a finger placed over his lips gently, hushing him nearly instantly. The reply came with a silent chuckle of a man who knew he'd won, even thought he was just a simple baseball freak that didn't need much to be happy.

"It's because I love milk so much, but I still like Gokudera better."

He buried his face in the crook of his neck, letting his hair cascade past the embarrassing crimson of his cheeks.

Nicknames... they were embarrassing as hell, but maybe... he could get used to it.

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><p><em>(1) gokuaku = heinous<em>

_(2) gouka = gorgeous_

_(3) gyunyu = milk_


End file.
